Stiles takes a deep breath and faces Derek and his worst nightmare simultaneously. Derek, who is quit, has been quit for the past couple of minutes, unmoving. He seems to know what will come, what Stiles has to say. And yet he is still awfully quit and still as a brick wall.
"Derek, I have to... to break up with you. I- I just can't- I don't think we- we work... out. And I don't think you- you're happy with what we have... had. I know I can only assume but you- I can't tell how you are when you are not speaking to me. I want you to be happy and I can't- I don't think I can make you. This doesn't- didn't work but I hope you find something differe- someone different. I just- I can't..." For the first time in his life, Stiles runs out of words. His mind is blank, his heart aches and his whole body feels numb. Empty. His soul feels on fire. Derek still isn't saying anything. His face an emotionless mask hiding everything. Or maybe there isn't more to be seen this time.
Tears drop arrhythmically from Stiles' face. His hands shake as he watches Dereks mask. He is a mess. Stiles doesn't know what he's hoped for but he sure didn't get it. He didn't get any kind of reaction from Derek. Nothing.
Stiles hiccups twice before leaving Dereks loft without closing the metal door, without a goodbye and without a look back at the man he loves so much.
Back in his baby blue jeep, Stiles tries to calm down enough to drive back home. His aches painfully he thinks he was shot. He has to check for a wound because Stiles can't believe emotions can hurt this badly. But his chest is still smooth. His heart beneath though feels ripped apart, longing for his lover to hold the shreads together.
Stiles glances at the building he just left. And what once felt like a second home to him, now looks like it wants to eat him alive and spit him out after. Stiles' line of sight shifts to his right, to the Camaro and his tear-filled eyes close as the tears continue to run down his face. He feels awful and he hates himself for doing what he did just a few minutes ago. He never thought it would happen. Or could happen. But Derek never opened up to him. After a few weeks into the relationship, Stiles tried different approaches to make Derek feel save and loved and understood. After a few month Stiles doubted he would ever be able to earn Dereks trust. That hurt. A lot. Stiles tried harder, patiently watching his lover and making sure Derek knew he could trust the younger man and be himself around him. But nothing ever happened. Derek rarely talked about himself, never made a move towards Stiles, never gave a sign to signal he trusted Stiles. Stiles came to the conclusion that they didn't add up. If Derek couldn't trust him, how would Stiles be able to ever make him happy? So he broke up with Derek. Figuring if Stiles wasn't able to care enough for Derek, he shouldn't be in the way for someone you could. It broke Stiles' heart to know he wasn't 'the one' for his 'the one'.
Before Stiles went further down is emotional slide to hell - well knowing that Derek could still hear and scent him - he started Roscoe, put her in gear and drove away from Dereks building. Making sure to drive extra carefully and slowly because he still couldn't hold back the tears - would he ever? He loved that broody werewolf named Derek.
He arrived at his house as the sun began to set to his left. He went straight up the stairs, ditched his boots and jeans and got under the covers of his bed. Stiles cried for what felt like hours. Overthinking his actions over and over again, he came up empty with a different solution. Some time later his mind goes quit, his body feels numb, his tears stop running down his face but only because he has no more. Stiles has no more tears to shed, no more thoughts to think.
He feels empty, Stiles notices.
And his bed feels empty without Derek in it, Stiles notices too. He falls asleep from exhaustion.
The house is unusually quit when the Sheriff arrives at his house. Which is weird because Stiles is never completely quit. He might be at Dereks, John thinks as he closes the door behind him. But then he would have received at least a text message which he didn't.
"Stiles?", John asks quietly into the open space of the living room. As he waits for an answer, he chucks out of his boots and puts away his police belt. When there is no answer, the Sheriff decides to go upstairs. He finds his son curled up on his bed. John knocks two times on the already open door to get his sons attention. Stiles lifts his head.
"Dad?", he asks with a rather raspy voice. Even in the dim light John can see the swollen eyes and the damp skin.
"What's going on?", John tries to sound neutral but his voice is laced with concern. "Do I need to shoot someone?", he adds to try and lighten the mood.
"No, it's fine Dad." Stiles sounds tired. Clearly it's isn't fine but the Sheriff knows not to press.
"Do you want to talk?", he offers. Stiles thinks about it for a second but shakes his head no.
"Okay. If you need me I'm here, alright kiddo?"
"Yeah. Thanks dad."
John goes downstairs again, settles on the couch and turns on the TV. He is worried but he also trusts Stiles to talk to him if his sons needs him.
It's Tuesday, four days after Stiles broke up with Derek. He hasn't said anything today. Mr Harris wanted to give him detention because he stared holes into the walls of his classroom and didn't do any of the previously assigned homework but he must have looked terrible enough for even Harris to excuse his behavior. Kind of. He still got a ton of extra homework for tomorrow.
Stiles fights the urge to lay down on the nearest surface he sees when he comes home, not wanting to worry his father more than he already has. The boy walks up the stairs to his bedroom where he ditches his backpack and changes into jogging pants and his favorite worn-out hoodie. Before he gets a chance to slip under his covers, Stiles notices a piece of paper on his desk that he doesn't remember leaving there. A moment later he notices the open window.
A heavy feeling settles in his gut and he knows he must be paling visibly. He considers ignoring what he thinks might be a note from Derek but he can't resist to finally get any kind of response from the man he adores. He settles on his desk chair and stares out of his open window for a few seconds, trying to simultaneously calm and brace himself, the piece of paper only inches away from the tips of his fingers. His heart is beating wildly in his chest but constricts with nerves every other moment. Stiles will probably never be prepared for any kind of answer from Derek so he fucks the calming down part and grabs the paper with his right hand.
The paper is too valuable to not open carefully. Stiles glances down at a neatly handwritten letter and begins to read.
I love you. I want you to know that. And I trust you with my everything. I want you to know that too. You made every day a little bit better, a little bit calmer, a little bit more precious for me. I don't want you to think that you didn't make me happy. Because you did. Every time you laughed I felt a little lighter. Every time you touched me I felt save. Every time you kissed me I felt free.
You gave me so much Stiles. And I know I didn't give much in return. You were always a little different, a little special. I don't want to scare you away. I don't want to hurt you Stiles. I can't express my thankfulness for your kindness, for your empathy, for your strong heart, for your loyalty, for making my dark days become a little lighter, for your arms that held me whenever you felt like I needed you, for keeping guard when I slept, for your quietness when my head was too loud, for the space you left me and for the space you filled. I am thankful for every second of the five months and nine days of our relationship and for all the weeks I knew you before. I miss you. So much. I hope you will find someone to share your life and your love with. Although I accept the decision you made, there will never be someone else for me. My heart will forever belong to you. My wolf will forever listen to you.
I love you Stiles.
Tears stream down Stiles' face.
Stiles feels broken again.
His heart beats wildly.
Hope blooms in his chest as guilt clouds his mind.
How could he leave the love of his life?
His eyes are puffy.
His throat hurts from calling out for his lover.
He slides down from his desk chair onto the floor, kneeling in front of the open window.
"I love you! I'm sorry."
He sobs and presses the letter to his chest.
"Derek, please! Come back to me. Please! I love you."
Stiles wants to scream louder but his voice cracks.
He sobs loudly, his face is wet with his tears, the saltiness clinging to his lips.
A hand touches his face gently. Lifting his chin, Stiles looks up to see a dark haired figure, blurred because of his teary eyes.
"Derek.", he pleads.
"Stiles.", says the voice he wants to hear lullabies from for eternity. He lunges at Derek, the force knocking Derek back and Stiles on top of him. Stiles fists the werewolfs shirt into his left hand, the right one crumbling the paper between their two bodies, his face tucked tightly into the crook of Dereks neck, muttering to the werewolf beneath him.
"Derek. I'm sorry. I didn't know what to do. I want you happy. I love you. Didn't know how to make you happy. I'm sorry. Just wanted you to trust me. I love you. Derek. Please. I need you happy. I'm sorry. Forgive me. Please. I love you. Please. Derek. I need you. I want you to be happy. Derek. Please. I didn't know if I could ever make you happy. I love you. Derek. Derek...", Stiles sobs the words against the skin of Dereks neck. He only stops when Derek makes quiet little shushing noises at him. His lover shifts underneath him and for one horrible second Stiles thinks Derek wants to shake him off. But the werewolf just snakes one arm around Stiles' back and cards the other hand through his hair while soothingly humming at the boy. Stiles sniffles still but his tears have dried down at least.
That confronts him with the reality. Derek is here. Immediately, Stiles holds onto him a little tighter. Derek reciprocates the action and continues humming.
Derek had left him a letter. Stiles had read it and called out for his werewolf and he came. He came back to Stiles and is now laying underneath him, holding him, soothing him. With a clearer mind, Stiles begins to talk again.
"I love you Derek. I didn't want to leave you but it felt like your part in the relationship was dead. I thought you were unhappy. But you deserve to be happy so I wanted to step aside and make room for someone who could make you happy. I love you."
"I love you too, idiot. You make me the happiest I've ever been. I just don't want to crush you with my troubles."
"You're an idiot yourself. I want to know about your troubles. I want to carry them with you. I want to be there for you but I can't when you don't le me behind your walls."
"I will work on that, I promise. Please take me back, Stiles. I need you.", whispers Derek. At that, Stiles lifts his head to look at Derek.
"Of course I will take you Derek. I love you. As long as I can make you smile a bit every day I want to be with you. I missed you so much."
"I missed you too."